


homecoming

by debilitas



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Reunions, bl3, unmasked zer0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debilitas/pseuds/debilitas
Summary: Zer0 comes home late in the night.
Relationships: Rhys/Zer0 (Borderlands)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 178





	homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> for florian and alex <3 luv u guys
> 
> first time writing this pair, hope it turned out alright

Zer0 comes home late in the night.

Their arrival is accompanied by the sound of boots on hardwood and the stench of blood. They've been gone longer than usual, so long, in fact, that Rhys isn't expecting to see them when he looks up from his desk.

Their thin silhouette stands on the other side of the office, between the massive aquariums, illuminated only by the blue light emanating from the water. Sword still clutched in a gloved hand, trickling crimson onto the wood below.

The silence is filled by the scratch of Rhys' fountain pen against paper as he fills out another form. He's read so much these past few hours that the black and white has started to bleed together, barely legible through sleep-deprived eyes. He's checking off boxes and signing his name on autopilot, hoping he doesn't agree to anything too catastrophic. Zer0 doesn't move. The visor illuminates:

_**...** _

Rhys rolls his chair backward, lower back aching from a day spent in it. He gets to his feet, and crosses the expanse of the room. The closer he gets to Zer0, more of their body comes into view. Their bodysuit is caked with dirt and blood, fresh enough to burn the inside of his nostrils with its coppery scent.

"Did you come straight here?" Rhys asks, seeing his own reflection in the inky screen of the visor. There's a splash of blood on it, crimson slicing a diagonal line through the black. "You did, didn't you?"

Zer0 nods. Rhys watches his reflection give a small smile. With a careful hand, he presses the heel of a palm against the cold glass and wipes the blood away. The visor flashes another message: 

_**TY** _

Their body remains stiff, tensed in preparation for battle that's already over. Rhys reaches down, overlapping his hand over theirs. It stays there for a brief moment, then slides down to the handle of the sword. There's no resistance when Rhys takes it out of their grasp, flicking the remainder of the excess blood onto the floor. Zer0 reaches for his face. 

Nimble hands, the same hands that gripped the handle of a blade so tightly, anchor themselves on either sides of Rhys' jaw. It's a careful, gentle touch, and Rhys can feel the tension drain even through the gloves. He is often in awe of the stark contrasts Zer0 is capable of; that the same hands caressing his face are capable of such deadliness.

Rhys blinks back at them, the Rhys reflected in the visor looking mildly surprised by the gesture. The last mission seems to have changed something in Zer0, shaking them to their very core. It's the most they've been wholly invested in a target in seven years, immersing themselves into pure violence for nearly a month. Rhys missed them for those twenty-five days, an empty space at his side.

He's gotten used to Zer0's companionship, so much so that not having them around for so long felt _wrong_. To be with them is safe and familiar. How he missed this feeling; already finding comfort in the hands on him. How safe he feels in the arms of a bloodstained assassin.

Zer0 hadn't always been real to him. For years, they were just a vault hunter, a story to be told, someone to watch clips of on the Echonet. A crush— even if he'd never admit it. Then they were teammates, coworkers, turned friends, turned… something else. 

Now, Zer0 is very real, and they are beautiful.

Rhys lets the sword clatter to the floor, and it feels as if a thread has been cut. A thread connecting them to the outside world, the very dangerous world that Zer0 has to train so rigorously to protect them both from. Even if it's only temporary, the white noise of it all fades to a welcome silence, and there's nothing but the two of them, together.

He places his own hands on Zer0's small waist, closing the distance between them, and presses his forehead against the visor. It's cold against his skin and awkward, but he knows it's an intimacy for Zer0. No other living thing ever gets this close, and Rhys only feels a little smug about it.

Feeling a bit silly, he briefly presses his lips against the glass and says, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Paperwork forgotten on Rhys' desk, they both cut through the office and into his quarters. It's a lavish room, outfitted with plush carpet and navy blue wallpaper. There's a large, circular bed flush against the center wall. Complete with overpriced sheets, and what a man of lesser tastes would consider too many throw pillows. 

Another aquarium is positioned in the wall above it, small and rectangular. Rhys put a lot of time (and dollars) into the decor of his bedroom, but it's rarely used. An Atlas CEO's work is never done, it seems, and his eyes burn from lack of sleep more than they don't.

Zer0 sits at the foot of the bed before he can beg them to spare his duvet from the grime. They pull at the zipper of their bodysuit and begin to shrug it from their shoulders. Their skin is a shade of grey, like any cartoon alien on the Echonet. Before he can be caught staring, Rhys disappears to fetch a first aid kit.

When he returns, Zer0 is in the same spot, bodysuit bunched around their waist. In the dim light, he realizes that their skin has a faint purple glow. It reminds Rhys of eridium, and he pictures it pumping slow and purposeful through their veins. Does Zer0 have veins? He'll have to ask someday.

There are a few minor lacerations littering their torso, and Rhys crouches in front of them, popping open the kit. They don't flinch when he takes an alcohol doused cotton ball to the wounds. The glow is much more visible now that he's closer, flickering in and out like fireflies on a summer night.

Zer0's body has relaxed as time has passed, lithe form no longer braced for attack. Chest moving in a slow rise and fall with each intake of breath, Rhys imagines all of their eyes trained on him.

“It seems like you have **/** some questions you’d like to ask **/** the way you’re looking.”

Rhys makes a noncommittal noise. “Of course not. I see this stuff all the time.” He makes a point of not letting his fingers graze Zer0’s skin, unsure of how it’d feel. It looks thicker, rougher than human flesh.

Once the scattered cuts have been treated, Zer0 laces all four fingers over Rhys’ wrist. They move his hand closer, until his palm is flush against their sternum. He feels the steady _thump_ of their heart, a much calmer rhythm than his own. ...Until it stops.

“Uh?” Rhys says, alarmed. The blank mask offers no answers. He strains his ears, readjusts his hand, but feels nothing. 

After a few tense moments, he feels the heartbeat start up again, slow at first, eventually working itself back into the rhythm. Rhys starts to understand. It’s the ultimate form of stealth, the ability to feign death. He pictures Zer0 lining up a particularly difficult shot, willing their heart to stop.

Zer0’s body is made to kill, a perfectly deadly design. It should scare Rhys, knowing they could end him in a single fluid motion, but it doesn’t. 

In the past, he found it cool, watching countless clips of their fatal acrobatics Echonet. So many that Vaughn used to tease him over it, casting a suspicious glance as he scrambled to clear his browser history. Oh, all the lengths Rhys has gone to in order to keep Vaughn away from Zer0, petrified he’d reveal his embarrassing past.

Now, Rhys is in awe that their body is still capable of gentleness. After so long in the heat of battle, violence should be a reflex. Yet, their hands are somehow just as comfortable on him as a rifle. He’s become more enraptured by Zer0’s contrasts rather than their raw skills. 

The contrast of their individual bodies; Zer0’s lithe and smooth, where his is bigger and littered in hair. Wrinkled. These past seven years haven’t been easy on him. 

Moving on impulse, Rhys clambers to his feet, leaning over Zer0. Bracing one knee on the soft mattress, he grips both sides of their helmet, pressing the twin buttons hidden under the jaw. The visor creeps up, revealing the alien face underneath.

Zer0’s skin is a medium shade of grey, thicker than human flesh. Their lips are full, but their smiles stretch just a few millimeters too wide, flashing pointed teeth. There’s a pair of eyes where you’d expect them to be, with an identical pair just above them. They’re all an angular shape, with purple irises and vertical pupils. Rhys watches them expand before their lips meet.

The same hands that took the life of a man mere hours ago anchor on his back. Zer0’s mouth is much colder than a human’s, and they smell faintly of ozone. Like how the air smells just before a storm, a storm Rhys is steering directly into.

Rhys is very much out of practice, shame creeping into his expression as he fumbles through the glide of lips. He suspects it’s why Zer0 ultimately pulls away, until they yank him closer. Rhys makes a startled noise, chests flush and Zer0’s face pressed against the nape of his neck.

“You feel so warm, Rhys **/** I love that about humans **/** little furnaces.”

Without the helmet’s modulator, their voice is little more than a hoarse whisper in Rhys’ ear. They both awkwardly collapse further onto the mattress, Zer0’s hands roaming his torso appreciatively.

Still feeling indignant from being called a _little furnace_ , Rhys tries and fails to remain stoic. Zer0’s pupils are almost perfect circles now, swallowing up the surrounding iris like a cat’s. They remove their gloves, grey palms cold through his clothes.

It’s a quiet, gentle moment: the pair laying on their sides, feet hanging haphazardly off the end of the mattress. A soft purple glow enveloping them. 

This is perhaps the most vulnerable Zer0’s ever been, face and torso on display. They’re not the same Zer0 that stood in his office earlier that night, and that’s fine by Rhys. Their armor, both physical and metaphorical, has to be shed some time. He’s just honored to bear witness.

Then their hands reach his face again, cupping it gently. And Rhys starts to pray that this isn’t a one time thing, a fluke, a comedy of errors. He wants this moment to go on forever, repeat itself every night. Held lovingly in the arms of an assassin.

Zer0 strokes his cheekbone with the pad of a thumb, all four eyes trained on his face. They soak up every detail, lids blinking slow and content.

“I’ve never done this **/** being close with a person **/** this feels... very nice.”

Exhaustion is creeping up on Rhys, tempting him to melt into the mattress below and arms around him. He feels so comfortable, so safe, and none of the pressures of running Atlas.

“We could do this more,” Rhys offers, suppressing a yawn. There’d still be the Zer0 the rest of the world saw, deadly and unfeeling. Then there’d be the one at his side, in his arms, stealing warmth and so very gentle.

They answer by guiding Rhys’ head to their chest, four fingers anchored in his hair. He instinctively curls up, throwing a tired arm over Zer0’s thin body and holding them tightly. The heartbeat in his ears is calm and steady.

As he drifts into sleep, Rhys knows the weight of Atlas will still be there in the morning. But so will Zer0.


End file.
